


the aftermath and the net

by skeletonprowler



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror (mentioned), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 08:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16059596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletonprowler/pseuds/skeletonprowler
Summary: The Unknowing was stopped with the help of the Spider. It saved Jon - on one condition.It was grisly work.





	the aftermath and the net

After they returned, everything was different.

The remaining staff filed down into the labyrinth beneath the institute carrying the swathed corpse of their Archivist like a coffin. His wheezing breath and gurgling exhales echoed in the corridors. The ones carrying the cocoon could sense his shaking, his shifting beneath the webbing. And while their expressions may have betrayed repulsion, their mood was one of grim purpose.

Daisy slowly came into view, seemingly materializing from the darkness of the corridors, her eyes focusing on the cocoon and her expression hardening. The chrysalis was laid down in front of her and everyone retreated immediately, pressing their backs to the furthest parts of the corridor, or trying to melt back into the darkness from which they had come from, unable to leave. Only Daisy stood in the corridor, unmoving. Only Daisy, and the cocoon. And the knife.

It was Daisy who cut him up. Of course it was – who else would do it? It had to be one of them. Everyone understood this, but no one forgave her. Jon’s last moments were… underwhelming. A choked gasp was heard from his chrysalis, the webbing shook, and then he was still. Daisy ignored the sounds of anguish and running feet and continued her grisly work, her face betraying a grim satisfaction when she finished. She stood to find herself alone, blood trickling down the corridor. No one forgave her.

Daisy and Basira said goodbye on a windy day. Basira did not recognize the person she had loved, underneath the sharp teeth and sharp corners that Daisy now possessed. Basira had no use for a weapon. She took the slip of paper from Daisy, instructions on how to find the pieces of flesh Daisy had rent, and she turned her back. And started to walk.

Basira took two weeks to carve him. The runes were unfamiliar and they cut her hands. It was bloody work. Her books offered no escape from the flesh of her dead friend, only a way to corrupt it further. She emerged from her basement only after every piece was branded, smelling air that wasn’t of blood, and found she was numb. When Martin next saw her, she had bags under her eyes and her normally warm skin was ashen and sunken. She was shaking. Martin nodded to himself, offered no condolences to the part of her that died. Dead men recognize each other, just as they recognize their inability to help.  Martin accepted the packages from her arms, was told where the rest of them were, and disappeared.

It was Martin who carried him.

For in the wax museum, Jon was killed. A deal was struck – the Spider, tugged into the centre of its web by the struggles of a dying fly, saved Jon – on a condition. For a favour. Would the Archivists’ aides have accepted the deal, had their Archivist not lay dying at their feet? Every one had a different answer. It is inconsequential. They agreed. Aided by the Web, the staff of the Magnus Institute disrupted the Unknowing, and in the aftermath, the payment was made clear. The Spider demanded a web.

It was Basira who condemned him. Her readings taught her that flesh is powerful – a beacon, once separated, will still call to the whole. With guidance, the call can be tamed, and become useful - information transmitted across flesh, across distance. A network of intelligence. They looked at the twitching, half-alive cocoon of their Archivist. The word _s_ _alvage_ crosses Basira's mind. To serve both the Eye and the Web: Jon was saved for the sole purpose of being cut apart.

It was Martin who carried him.

It was Martin who plotted the earth to build Jon’s net. It was Martin who ferried the pieces of his friend across the globe, it was Martin who buried him, who attended a thousand funerals. It was Martin who Jon tried to contact, once – mustered enough strength to draw his consciousness near Martin, to try to tell him – it was painful. Martin only felt the gaze of two eyes buried 10,000 miles apart, only heard his name, pronounced with such pain and regret and affectio - Jon dissipated, screaming. He didn’t try it again. Martin cried, then Martin continued his work.

And Martin was alone.

**Author's Note:**

> you already know i'm a sucker for mutilation by friends :/ at least Martin gets to spend time with Jon! or... I guess the pieces of him lmao  
>  
> 
> find me at skeletonprowler.tumblr.com


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